


First Steps

by Telaryn



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Awkwardness, Cultural Differences, Disobeying Orders, First Meetings, Gen, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:42:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her decision to leave her old life and follow him to his seemed much easier in the field.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Steps

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "First Things First" challenge at Avengersland. We were randomly assigned MCU characters and tasked with writing a fic from their point of view.
> 
> I drew Natasha.

Where I come from, there is only the mission. We are taught from early childhood not to think about anything else – friends, family, not even the future. The gray area in between assignments is spent reviewing your performance on the previous mission and working on ways to make sure the next one is better.

Perfection is the goal, but deep down we all know we’ll never reach it. The men who shape us, guide us, have a hunger that will never be satisfied. Eventually age, infirmity or injury will take us out of play and the ones not as skilled as we were will advance and replace us.

It is the way of our world, and you either make your peace with it or you go mad. 

Perhaps madness is the best way to explain how I ended up here in enemy territory while a man who by my calculations could have killed me seven different times in one night argues with his superior for my salvation. Barton has clearly assumed I am on board with his plan, apparently not realizing _I’m_ still trying to puzzle out what it is I need saving from.

His superior – a slight man in a dark suit who makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up – is not happy I’m here, not pleased that Barton has violated his orders to bring me here. His choice of words bothers me though, and almost before I even realize I’ve decided to do so I speak.

“Bring implies that I am a prisoner.”

His voice is calm – Barton’s superior – but at this distance there is no mistaking the anger in his pale blue eyes. “Forgive me _gaspazha_ , but nobody has decided _what_ you are yet. Agent Barton has seriously compromised what was supposed to be a simple operation.”

At my side, Barton snorts softly. “You act like it’s the first time.” When the slight man turns on him, he raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Oh come on, Coulson! You can’t tell me you wouldn’t rather have her here, working with us!”

Coulson’s full attention is on Barton now, and I find myself wondering how such monstrous insubordination is punished in this world. “I would prefer that you had done your job!” Curiously, he winces ever-so-slightly while speaking – almost as if he feels awkward speaking so in my presence. “You still haven’t explained your decision.”

Barton goes still and quiet at Coulson’s words, once again the man I first saw looking at me over a lowered rifle on a rainy night in the south of France. “It was the right thing to do,” he says, folding his arms across his chest, his chin raising ever-so-slightly – defying his superior to a degree I would never imagine doing.

Defying his superior over _me._

“The Black Widow doesn’t need anyone’s pity Barton,” Coulson counters, still in that same level tone of voice – and in spite of myself I smile. “Least of all yours…can I ask what’s so funny _gaspazha_?”

He shifts gears so smoothly that it actually takes a moment for me to realize I have a question in front of me. “I, um, told him the same thing,” I admit – and the whole business is suddenly so funny it never once occurs to me to stop smiling. “Apparently pity never occurred to him, _gaspadeen_.” I return Coulson courtesy for courtesy, even though the pre-Revolutionary word is strange on my tongue. “He truly believes I would be an asset to your organization.”

Some of the subtle tension in Coulson’s expression softens hearing that. “I have no doubt of that,” he says, “if we could determine with any certainty where your loyalties lie.” He meets my gaze without flinching or expectation – one of the few men who have ever managed to do so.

One of the only other ones is standing to my left.

“Are you asking if I would betray SHIELD?” Now it is my turn to probe, to challenge.

His nod is crisp…professional. “That is exactly what I’m asking.”

My brow furrows, but only because the answer comes easily and not in the form I think any of us expect. “Yes,” I admit. “Under the right circumstances I would betray SHIELD.” Before he can claim the victory, however, I find myself admitting, “Barton on the other hand – I will never betray _him_.”

I don’t have to turn to see that Barton is grinning like an idiot, but fortunately he has enough brains to hold his tongue. Coulson is harder to read. I have to assume he would prefer I claim loyalty to the organization, but I finished with that when I walked away from my life. From this point forward my loyalty will be to people – not government, not causes.

Finally he exhales, submitting to the inevitable. “Get her settled,” he says to Barton. “I’ll handle the paperwork.” He pauses. “And Fury.”

Barton touches my arm; when I look at him he indicates with a glance that it’s time for us to go. I’ve reached the door when Coulson speaks one last time.

“Next time you feel the urge to bring in a stray, Barton – do us all a favor and get yourself a dog.”


End file.
